When I reached the door, I hesitated. I stood there longer than I meant to, weighing the choice to knock against the instinct to walk away. In the end, I knocked—and I was glad I did.
When she opened the door, the first shock wasn’t seeing her. The receptionist had already told me she lived here. I was prepared for that.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the small boy who came charging forward, gripping a wooden bat like a weapon too big for his hands. He planted himself in front of her, shoulders squared, eyes blazing with a courage far older than his body.
“Stay back,” he said, his voice small but fierce. “I’ll protect you.”
Something unexpected stirred in my chest. Not amusement. Not irritation.
Respect.
“Gianni!” she shouted, her voice cracking, with fear on her face, like she had b
